Page 28 of The Millionaire Mortician
Talina snatched the card out of my hand and started reading it with her mouth wide open. I stood there feeling butterflies for another man that wasn’t my own.
“Girl, he’s on yo’ ass heavy,” she gushed with excitement.
I shot her a look that made her calm down some. “He’s not Milan, though.” I took the card, ripped it up, and tossed it in the trash. “I’ll keep the roses, though.” I smelled them and smiled.
“It doesn’t hurt to have friends, Dai. Plus, technically, you’re single until you’re married,” Talina exaggerated.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I should definitely take advice from my best friend, who doesn’t even like to commit.” I shot her another look, then made my way to my office in the back.
Between last night and today, it's been a lot.I just wish it were my man who sent me those roses.
Afew days slid by fast as shit, and business moved along quickly. Still, in the middle of it all, I couldn’t shake how I did Daija.
She had been talking about how she needed a night where it was just the two of us. Since we were both business owners now, she felt we had to put aside quality time for just us and do different things like date nights, staycations, and trips. I agreed, but the first crack at it was a failure. It wasn’t because I ain’t care, or not because I ain’t want to, though.
The truth was, once Mallo made that call about meeting the connect, that turned into tunnel vision, and everything else vanished from my mind. I didn’t even remember the dinner date until I got out of the meeting and powered my phones back on. Maverick even got calls and text messages from her.
Although it wasn’t intentional, that didn’t matter. The mistake was mine. I made a mental note to make things up to her. She deserved it and more. However, right at that moment, the streets needed me too.
The deal with Don Rafael was official. Maverick and I weren’t just playing the middlemen anymore. We were distributors. The northeast was ours to feed, and if somebody were hungry, we’d make it so they had to eat from our plate or starve.
We started calling meetings almost immediately. Some were with old associates, others with crews we had never broke bread with before, while some were with rivals that we may have had some small-time beefs that never turned into real wars. Either way, it was time to sit down face-to-face and put things in place.
The one area I knew was gon’ be tricky but was imperative to get was in Bed-Stuy. They were a crew we had history with since Milan and I were young niggas growing up in the Stuy. They had been eating off Frost’s line for a while, but that didn’t stop us from reaching out. My thing was that if we didn’t try, we had already lost. A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.
Maverick and I pulled up to a brownstone off Marcus Garvey. Two of their soldiers were outside, leaning against the gate, watching us heavy as Don parked. I kept my hands visible, calm as always, while Maverick gave them a nod. They frisked us quickly, then waved us inside.
The place was dim, smelling of loud and Henny. About ten of them sat scattered around the room, some on couches, while others stood. The boss, a dude named Reese, sat in the center, gold teeth flashing when he smiled.
“Well, well, it’s the Marcano Twins,” he stated, grinning like he had a joke loaded. “I ain’t think y’all would pull up.”
There was a seat across from him. I sat down while Maverick stood beside me.
“We ain’t here for the back-and-forth. We’re here cause we just stepped up the ladder. We’re the new distro for our connect for the northeast.”
One of his younger soldiers scoffed. “We already gettin’ work. Frost keeps us good.”
I turned my head slightly, eyeing the young nigga. “Then keep eatin’, but what we got ain’t what Frost got. What we got is cleaner and purer. There would be no droughts or excuses. Just weight when you need it.”
Reese leaned back, still smiling, but I could see him thinking. “So what, you expect me to turn my back on Frost just like that?”
Maverick stepped up. “Ain’t nobody tellin’ you to turn your back. We’re tellin’ you to get money. That’s all we’ve ever been about. We ain’t into that stupid beef or any petty shit, just straight getting to the cheese. You wanna stay loyal to Frost, cool. Just know loyalty don’t keep your people fed. Numbers do,” he schooled with his voice sharper than mine, giving the same energy that was being offered.
Reese tilted his head. “And what’s your numbers lookin’ like?”
Mav smirked, lowering his tone just enough to make it sound like a secret. “Better than his. We undercut, and you still come out on top. There’s no middleman or extra hands in the pot. It’ll come straight from us.”
The room went quiet, but that didn’t bother me. Sometimes silence spoke louder than words. I could tell Reese was really leaning our way.
Reese broke into another grin, this one less playful, more respectful. “Y’all really ain’t with the old beef?”
I shook my head once. “We never was, my guy. That was just street noise. We past that now. You want to war, you can call Frost. You want to win, you can call us.”
He stared at me, then at Maverick, then back at me. After a long moment, he nodded. “Aight. I’ll take a sample. Small weight first. See if what y’all say matches the product.”
“That’s fair,” I agreed in a calm manner.
We stood and shook hands. His grip was firm, but mine was firmer. It wasn’t aggressive. It was just enough to remind him what type of men we were.
